The 33 Percent Postulate
by DestructiveMind
Summary: In which Tom Riddle suspects something is oddly wrong with one of his Professors. But which one of them is it? AU. Tomione. Warning: Sultry!Hermione, Evil!Tom and heavy adult content (i.e. just some more of my messed up tastes).


**The Magician**

11:59 PM

Big Ben struck 11:59pm, and as usual, _he_ made an appearance. Standing atop the clock like a demonic angel guarding the golden monument.

No one ever knew why he was there.

No one knew when he'd ever started coming here.

No one knew who he was.

At randomly planned nights, at exactly 11:59pm, a man wearing a black hooded cloak stood atop the tower.

And that was all he ever did.

People thought he was insane, others called him brilliant. Some wondered whether he was a supernatural being.

He would appear at the blink of an eye, and disappear at another. Just like magic.

Some called him crazy, others called him The Magician.

* * *

Professor Snape was his least favorite, Tom mused. It was somewhat strange for him to think so, especially since he felt that him and Snape were alike in many ways. But.. just.. something about Snape did not put him at ease.

He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was just the usual just-another-boring-lecturer type of emotions?

He did not know.

Tom sighed in annoyance, he'd do anything to be out of this ridiculous Thermodynamics class, he genuinely could not care less about what inanimate objects decided to do in their spare time. It was only the first day of his second term at Hogwarts University and he'd already had enough. He wondered what his other Professors were like; hopefully less mind numbing than this.

Suddenly, he felt someone sit next to him, and he really didn't buy them much attention until their fucking hand decided to rest on his thigh. What kind of fucked up moron dared touch him?

Tom, as calmly as possible, turned around and stared. A girl with long, bushy hair sat next to him, she was dressed in a white button up shirt that was much too tight.. he averted his gaze and looked at her face. Her eyes were strangely obscured by sunglasses, and her head donned a black hat.

"Who are you?" Tom asked, eyeing her fingers on his thigh suspiciously.

"It doesn't matter; I've decided you're my next victim," she said simply.

Tom stared at her, slightly in disbelief. No one ever dared approach the highly intelligent, handsome, smart boy in the front row. Yet here she was, actually daring to sit next to him _and_ touch him.

"Pardon me?" Tom said through gritted teeth, trying as much as possible to act polite.

She leaned in to his ear and whispered, her hot breath on his neck, "You'll want to fuck me by the end of the week."

Her close proximity made him want to kick her until she was writhing in agony, but her _words_ made him raise a suggestive eyebrow and look at her with mild interest. _What a first._ Someone actually wasn't scared shitless of him.

Then she pulled out a pen and stared intensely at the board, squinting slightly and mouthing words of disgust. "Ugh," she said, "What does that even say? Do you even get any of this? Oh, of course you do.." she rolled her eyes at him and stood up.

He unwillingly caught a sight of her full attire then. She was in the shortest possible school girl skirt he could have ever imagined (and he sure as hell has imagined a lot) and.. fuck.. stockings.

"Bye then, Tom Riddle," she said bending over to pick up her stuff.

Could that goddamn shirt get any tighter? Tom inwardly hissed, w_hat a nuisance._

"Bye," he said blankly. Then he caught her name scribbled across her empty notepad.

Helena Granger.

She smirked at him and walked off.

* * *

He was sat in the library, trying to finish an assignment -a rather boring one at that- at 10pm with no one insight when suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him.

He ignored the person and continued typing onto the keyboard, willing this hideously mind numbing assignment to be over already.

Then he felt someone hug him from behind; the person wrapped their hands around his neck and he was suddenly overwhelmed with flesh and feminine perfume.

"Hello Tom," the voice said.

Tom recognized the voice immediately, feeling rather annoyed, he said, "Helena."

He continued typing systematically, ignoring the way she wriggled against him to try to get his attention.

"I can tell you're mad," she purred, "and I promise to go away if you let me do something."

He would literally kill her if she stayed on him any longer. Feeling exasperated, he let go of his stuff and turned around. Only to find that she was completely topless, save for a piece of thin ribbon wrapped around the centre of her breasts, covering her nipples only and fashioned into a bow at the front.

He nearly choked on his saliva. _What the actual fuck was wrong with this woman?_ He was suddenly engulfed with the urge to throttle her til she hurriedly scurried away when seemingly out of no where, the girl grabbed her own head, eyes wincing in pain and yelled, "Go away! No!"

Tom stared at her in genuine confusion. Why was she telling him to go away? What had _he _done? With a pang of horror, Tom realized that she wasn't talking to him, instead, she was talking to herself.

She sank to her knees, grabbing her head and hissing in pain, her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed painfully on the ground.

Tom instantly got out of his chair, stripped off his sweater and shoved it down her neck. He was about to help her get up and take her somewhere else when she suddenly pushed him back, turned around and ran distractedly to the exit.

Her hair was a mess, her footing was awry and her yells and wails rang desperately through the library.

That was the last time he ever saw Helena Granger.

* * *

Tom sank on his chair, his head between his hands. His heart raced and his face burnt with a mix of anger and frustration.

He didn't know what the fuck was going on, or what the fuck he was supposed to do after such a disastrous situation. Tom sighed aloud, shakily grabbed his things and dumping them in his bag. He stood up, his eyes woozy and his brain fuzzy. Was this worry? No of course not, it was mere confusion and horrid, _purely genuine_ _panic. _He was only 19 and yet here he was, already encountering crazy people who deserved to be hospitalized. That girl - for a lack of better words - simply freaked him out; he hoped that this situation wouldn't ever repeat itself again. He considered reporting this to University Affairs, but he doubted anyone would believe that a topless, crazy haired girl was on her knees screaming in the library after declaring that she'd wanted to have her way with him earlier that day. He headed out the door when his phone rang; he was inclined to ignore it but he simply could not, the person wouldn't stop ringing. _If this isn't important... _Tom sighed.

Angrily, he hissed into the phone, "What is it, Alphard?"

"Riddle! It's him! That guy! He's come back-"

Riddle didn't even bother responding; he slung his bag over his shoulder properly and instantly pocketed his phone, he was running in a matter of seconds. He needed to take the quickest route to Big Ben. A painfully long bus ride and an exhausting run in the icy cold weather later and Tom was stood, his breath escaping in labored pants, near the majestic clock. Police circled the area, spectators watched idly from afar, some asking who that man was, if we was insane, or if he was even human.

But Tom knew otherwise. This man wasn't any of those things - he was simply brilliant. He would appear randomly, with no purpose at all, and every single damn time he would jump off of the building and seemingly vanish into thin air.

And he would come back unscathed at another, random night.

It left people breathless.

But it left Tom curious. This guy wasn't inhuman, but he was brilliantly talented. He merely knew how to trick and tease his audience, he was a performer, a magician.

And as usual, after he'd made his spectacular stunt, Tom would circle the area, looking for clues as to the identity of the person. So far, he's found nothing.

But today, he found something. It made his heart skip a beat.

It was a card, a card he'd seen and used all too many times before.

It was the card used to enter the Undergraduate Laboratory in his department. The students had a green card, other faculty members had blue cards, but the Professors who taught him had red cards.

Tom picked it up, his eyes disbelieving. Could it have fallen from a spectator? No.. it was too close to the incident to have belonged to the audience.

Tom pocketed the card, his breathing uneven, his mind running miles with this information.

_Fuck._ Was it seriously one of his Professors? That would narrow it down to three people. Snape, Malfoy, and.. who was the last person? He didn't know. That person would give their first lecture tomorrow. He couldn't even remember their initials on his schedule.

_Impossible.._

The Magician had made a mistake.

And now Tom was indefinitely curious.

* * *

**HELLO GUYSSS! I've decided to start a new fic, as usual, right in the midst of exams woo... Pleaseee read and review guys! Your reviews are so damn encouraging :) I know this fic is quite strange right now but it will all work out :D And yes, this ISSS a mystery! So if anyone ever figures out what the heck is actually going on, feel free to leave a review with your theories! I'm interested to hear your thoughts along the way!  
**

**Thank you all and see you next time! Hope you enjoyed this!**


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